The Gang of Four

‘In what way have they been “helpful already”!?’

  ‘They saved your life. How’s that for starters?’

  ‘I’m not sure it was an altruistic act on their part.’

  ‘Whatever the reason, it has helped us greatly. Look at what we’ve achieved in the last few days alone: we’ve identified the principle issue facing the human system; we’ve got a powerful politician doing the heavy lifting for us; we’ve got a plan worked out!’

  ‘To be honest, Helen, you were the driver of all that. What have I done, apart from act as the mouthpiece?’

  Warner regarded Alan: ‘I don’t know if this is modesty or false-modesty on your part but either way – I don’t like it. You’ve been crucial Alan: you found the epigenetic issue, and you alerted me. Without you I’d still be oblivious to all this!’

  ‘I think you would have noticed the demise of the Sponsors!’

  ‘Yes, and I did, but that’s all. My only course of action then would have been to exploit the situation for the betterment of my business.’ Warner’s attention returned to her phone.

  Alan stared out of the window as the BMW continued to trundle through west London. Why had The Gang of Four saved him? Why had they left a sole survivor from their brutal assault on the Sponsors? If altruism was to be ruled out, and Alan felt sure that it had to be, then there was a specific motive. And Warner had a point: he had been crucial to this operation, if only as a catalyst. The conclusion had to be that they desired this outcome, they wanted to see humanity saved!

  Actually, that was a conclusion – there was another: Alan’s death had merely been postponed, just long enough for him to fully grasp the scale of humanity’s ruination. Well, he understood that now: if the technical challenges that lay ahead proved too great, even for Warner, then humanity was going down. If the Gang of Four wanted to “give him hell” before finally disposing of him, then: mission accomplished; the past week had been hellish!

  ‘Approaching the M4 now, Helen,’ declared Gavin, flatly.

  ‘Not before time!’ snapped Warner. She glanced at Alan: ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Oh, you know, just thinking.’

  ‘God help us! Thinking about what?’

  ‘If we do somehow manage to make contact with the Gang of Four it’s possible they’ll just kill us.’

  Warner looked shocked: ‘Why would they do that!?’

  ‘One: To squelch our little operation and so ensure that humanity – the bastard spawn of the Sponsors – is killed off. And two: To piss me off!’

  ‘Warner laughed: ‘They wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘I think they would!’

  Warner considered this for a moment before shaking her head: ‘No, I’m not buying it. They’re pulling our strings: yours, mine, the Prime Minister’s, MI6’s. The Gang of Four are involved. They are engaged. They want our operation to succeed, and since that is on something of a knife-edge, an audience with the Earth Gods could prove very helpful.’

  ‘What if they don’t want our operation to succeed? What if they want us to revert to our natural form?’

  ‘A hominid?’

  ‘It’s earth-natural. Whereas we are not!’

  Warner considered this point for a bit longer: ‘Still not buying it. If that were the case they would have secured that fate already. Instead they’ve decamped to Wiltshire and left us to our own devices.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s another thing: what the hell are they doing in Wiltshire?’

  ‘Don’t ask me! Although I have been curious, too.’ Warner waved her phone at Alan: ‘MI6 are tracking their movements with a surveillance drone.’

  ‘Really? No interference with that?’

  ‘No. The Gang of Four no longer seem concerned about hiding their whereabouts. They’re coaxing us in. All of us.’

  ‘Christ!’ muttered Alan. He glanced at Gavin: was he earwigging? He surely must be, but the stony-faced driver was giving nothing away. Alan leaned towards Warner and whispered: ‘are you sure we can…’ he surreptitiously pointed at Gavin. Warner smiled and made an odd motion with her right hand which left Alan baffled for a moment before he realized it was a frying motion that Warner was performing. ‘Ah!’

  The BMW sharply picked up speed as it hit the westbound motorway.

  ‘So what’s the drone feed showing us?’ asked Alan, in due course.

  ‘Last time I checked: Russell Tebb and the spider were bombing around the countryside in their red Bentley convertible.’

  ‘What are they doing, joy riding?’

  ‘Perhaps they’re just killing time until we get there.’

  ‘What about the others?’

  Warner consulted her phone: ‘Hmm, dunno. The drone no longer seems to be tracking anything. Could be a glitch.’ She began pressing keys rapidly.

  Alan shook his head: ‘What do we know about this hotel?’

  ‘Not much. A German crop circle research team is currently staying there.’

  ‘So the Gang of Four are there for the crop circles!?’

  Warner shrugged: ‘Seems rather farfetched!’

  ‘Strange, though, aren’t they?’

  ‘The Gang of Four?’

  ‘Crop circles.’

  ‘If you say so. Gavin, what’s our ETA for the Red Lion?’

  Gavin checked his satnav: ‘one thirty, give or take.’

  ‘Let’s aim for before one.’

  ‘No problem,’ replied Gavin.

  ***